


What I want isn't what I need

by Alrightbucky



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: After The Winter Soldier, Brooklyn, Bucky needs a hug, Buckys crazy and broken, Hallucinations, Hydra, M/M, Self Harm, Steve is buckys weakness, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, innocent people die, lots of pain tbh, no metal arm, pretty sickeningly happy ending, serial killer bucky, steve loves bucky alot tho, steves ass, title from Biffy Clyro Rearange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-07 04:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8783464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alrightbucky/pseuds/Alrightbucky
Summary: Bucky's spilt more than his fair share of innocent blood and come to think of himself as America's best serial killer but Steve's determined to smother him in blankets and hugs.





	

It all came from Hydra. He knew that of course but at the same time it didn’t. It came from in him. Maybe Hydra put it there, but nobody was pulling the strings anymore. Bucky was his own man, _man, not machine_ and yet the way he did things was somewhat systematic.

He couldn’t remember the how or why or when it started and he’d expected to feel a sort of pain or anger that’d make him want to rip his own arm off in guilt but it was just a kind of calm that washed over him. So he didn’t stop.  
He left behind him a trail of pain and hurt and spilled so much blood, he left it dripping down the walls and pooling on the floor and soaking bodies through their clothes and left family and friends dipping their hands in it as they tried to wake their loved ones.  
He wanted to feel their pain, he was just waiting for it to hit him, half expecting a tonne of bodies to come crashing down on him, knocking the life out of him until he was gasping on the floor with the pain he’d caused. But it just didn’t come.

So he stopped expecting it.  
He couldn’t say he enjoyed what he was doing but it was just a kind of satisfaction when he watched the life disappear out of someone, watch their eyes close, feel their body go limp, hear the breath as they fought to cling to life, hear the sobs and screams of people finding them, hear the sirens and watch on the news as Steve Rogers made statement after statement, sometimes claiming that he and the Avengers were responsible, maybe there was a hidden crime each victim had committed or they were just dangerous, sometimes the Captain would be promising that they would take down whoever had killed them, making promise and apology after promise and apology. And not once did anybody, anywhere mention him. Steve Rogers was literally letting him get away with murder.

 

Bucky did start to feel more towards everything although not exactly in the way he thought he would.  
It started off with some of those men who he could imagine would cat call women in the streets and make them walk quicker home, the ones who might drug people’s drinks in bars… they could have been totally innocent men but that wasn’t really something he was worried about.  
But all the same, he felt like he could justify those bodies he left with their skulls cracks opened on the sidewalk and on the edge of the bar, they faces smashed open with broken glasses. Their blood running down their faces and off the curb into the roads and around them in the bar surrounded by broken glass like the type of thing you’d see in crime mystery films. Bucky tried to kid himself he was doing the world a justice at this time, still waiting for the bodies to come falling out the sky onto him.  
But then it became women and younger men and he’d taken parents away from children for no good reason. This is when he stopped expecting to feel bad. He’d killed innocent women who were maybe on their way home or going to the shop in the middle of the day and then suddenly they were bleeding out over the frozen aisle. It wasn’t hard either. He’d just walk along pick up a box of cereal or two, nobody thinks people are following them around grocery stores. And before they could realise it he’d of pushed them against the shelves, knocking jars of peanut butter or whatever flying, the women gasping in his grip, pain already in their heads at the force of the shelf behind them, Bucky was strong he could choke the life out of them in less than a minute, repeatedly slam their heads down on the glass doors of the freezers.  
Even Bucky could see he was becoming more theatrical as he went on though. He’d had a knife in his pocket for the past few weeks when he first started to use it. Slicing open throats and watching the blood spray out, standing close enough to feel it hit his face.  
He’d stab them right in the chest or stomach over and over, the effort it took to force the knife in and out making him feel like he was really accomplishing something.

Hydra never told him killing was good, they just programmed him to know it’s what he needed to do. He had been conditioned into killing people just because he was told to. And although this was different he still knew it all stemmed from them. He’d become scared to even try to think about disobeying them, knowing that going against them even slightly would land him back in that chair, his brain being scrambled until it was an unrecognisable smoothie of all the memories he used to have. It’s what he did too, he’d wake up from being frozen for god knows how long and he’d feel stiff and terrible so they’d send him off on a kill mission to loosen him up again.  Then he’d be back in the chair just to make sure they had a blank canvas again.

He quickly learnt that if he threw a punch with all his strength he could knock someone out with 1, maybe 2 punches. But he realised that drawing it out made it somewhat more satisfying. He got a bit carried away and when he saw it on the news he almost laughed. He’d grabbed some probably 20 something year old lad and as he begged for his life Bucky just kind of cut into his body, carving wiggly lines into his arms and slicing in all sorts of different patterns so on the news when they started talking about this artistic killer who was definitely sick, the amount of pleasure he probably got from inflicting this onto somebody, was quite funny.  
He’d just had too much time on his hands.

 

Steve was going out of his mind. He didn’t know for sure if it was Bucky and he hoped it wasn’t but his gut was telling him that it was. He couldn’t let the Avengers take the credit for all of it, half the victims were clearly just ordinary people. So he started to apologise on their behalf for not finding the killer yet. He was looking. But Bucky was the Winter Soldier, he was trained to be a god damn ghost and finding a ghost in New York City was about the hardest thing he’d ever even thought about doing. He’d first started going to places, any places he thought Bucky would like or where him and Bucky had ever been together but the more he understood about what Bucky was doing (which wasn’t a lot) he realised he didn’t have a hope in hell in finding him. Bucky was going around in complete random, there was so real pattern, not that Steve could see anyway.  
Steve started to lose all hope, he didn’t know this killer, and he certainly wasn’t Bucky.  
Until a one last ditch attempt of going to Brooklyn gave him pretty much what he’d been looking for.

 

Bucky had driven to Brooklyn, not sure why or what he was hoping to find there. He’d ran into some drug dealer and after he’d wiped his sorry self of the face of the earth he searched him and whatever he found he’d pocketed.  
It wasn’t hard to find somewhere in Brooklyn he recognised, he even found the building where Steve used to live. Not far along from there was a park, a big green space with trees and kids playing football in the middle of it. Bucky had settled down under one of the trees furthest away from anybody and swallowed a few of the pills.  
He didn’t think much had happened at first, it hadn’t seemed to have any effect until he noticed there were a lot more trees in his eye line, all blurry and only looking half real. The kids playing football looked a lot fuzzier and right in front of him was Steve.  
He kept kind of shifting between which Steve he was until he seemed to settle on the newest… Captain America Steve he didn’t know as well. He was wearing a very dapper three piece suit, white cuffs just poking out under the black jacket sleeves, but there was blood dripping out of them. Steve was staring at him, unblinking, with a huge bright smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes as he cut into his own wrists again and again. The white of his shirt was now crimson red as the blood soaked through into his clothes.  
The way he was watching Bucky as he did it was like he was beckoning him to join him, and before he knew what he was doing Bucky had found his own knife and kept time with Steve, copying him, joining him, slitting open his wrists until he could feel his own blood trickling down his hands, he could feel his clothes start to stick to the blood.  
He didn’t look away from Steve when he switched arms, just mirrored whatever he did. Steve kept perfect control as he cut open his other arm, but in truth it was a lot harder to do. Bucky’s arm was already going slightly numb, still losing blood, he tried to grip the blade as he brought it across his other arm but it was unsteady and messy and suddenly Steve disappeared.

Bucky looked round for where Steve had vanished to, that’s when he noticed the football team again, standing shakily to his feel his looked down at the mess he had made, the grass was dripped in blood and it was still streaming down his arms as he made his way over to them, getting a tighter hold on the knife and trying to ignore the sharp pain he felt.

 

Steve wasn’t sure what made him come to Brooklyn but here he was aimlessly wandering down familiar streets, a pang in his chest that wouldn’t leave as he recognised different roads and building and the park he and Bucky would go to not too far away from where he used to live.   
He was looking at the green when he started to _really_ see what he was seeing. There was a football half streaked in red laying abandoned a few metres away from where someone was laying.  
No, not _a_ someone, lots of someone’s. Steve started to run over, realising that it seemed a whole football team had been slashed up and piled in a heap of dying bodies, all laying in each other’s blood. He was at a loss at what to do until he heard one of them trying to breathe. That’s when he snapped out of it and rang an ambulance, he had no idea what to describe it as, trying to tell them there was a pile of bleeding out boys was a pretty surreal thing to have to say.  
After he’d put the phone down Steve looked around for someone to come and help and that’s when he noticed him.  
There was a man stood not that far away, he seemed to be swaying slightly, but he was holding a knife and Steve could see blood dripping off of it. Steve headed towards him slowly, realising that the blood was dripping from _him_ as well. Both arms were bleeding, the knife was dripping, he had blood smeared across his face and he kept squeezing his eyes shut. That was when Steve really sprang into action, the closer he got he knew it was Bucky, and Bucky was hurt and as if a switch was flicked his brain went into overdrive. A constant stream of BuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBucky making his head spin.  
As he reached him Bucky he opened his eyes, it reminded Steve of when he’d found him that first time after being captured by Hydra. The same sort of look in his eyes and suddenly he collapsed, Steve was right there and caught him, holding Bucky in his arms with not a clue what to do next. He needed a hospital but Bucky would be arrested for sure, probably executed, Steve glanced back at the pile of bodies and then back to Bucky. He’d known it had been him but he also knew that Bucky was damaged. His mind wasn’t his own he didn’t know who he was and he didn’t deserve any of it.  
Not knowing what else to do he phoned Natasha, she was nearby he knew that much, briefly explaining the situation and begging her to come and get them. He was right, apparently Natasha had dropped everything and arrived at the park almost the same time the ambulances and police cars arrived.  
Steve quickly helped Natasha load Bucky into her car apolagising over and over whilst she swore under her breathe at the state of him and the football team and then she watched as Steve run over the ambulance team who really didn’t take much notice of him, he told them he’d been the one to phone and he didn’t know anything more than they did.  
Before anybody could really take notice of Steve he made his getaway, jumping into the car and telling Natasha to drive as fast as the car could possibly go.  
She tried to direct him to wrap up Bucky’s wrists with whatever he could find, Steve tore part of his shirt off to use as makeshift bandages, not really listening to Natasha as she explained how Clint was near and he would know what to do, he had way more experience in this side of things, she said.

Clint stayed relatively calm about the whole situation, when he saw Steve he laughed, “Saw your mate from 70 years ago and just had to take your shirt off?”  
“Don’t worry man I totally get it” he smiled when Steve didn’t react at all.  
Steve had no clue where they were but Clint did a good job, he unwrapped Bucky’s arms cursing quite a bit and then managed to stitch them up quite well, Steve cleaned the blood off of his face, trying to wash it out of his hair where it had all matted together and clung to his face.  
Natasha then sent Steve to clean up, it was only then he even noticed he was half covered in Bucky’s (he hoped it was Bucky’s) blood.

When he got back he sat next to where Bucky had been laid and waited for him with water and painkillers that had already been waiting for an hour.  
Only when Steve had managed to convince himself Bucky had lost too much blood to survive did he finally wake up, avoiding looking at Steve he took the glass of water out of his hand and accepted the pain killers without so much as a thank you.   

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure about what had happened, he wasn’t even aware at the time he was slitting his arms open but he wasn’t about to feel sorry about it now.  
Steve kept trying to talk to him though, it was driving him crazy.  
_Bucky why did you do it_  
Bucky what’re we going to do  
Bucky do you remember the football team  
Bucky you lost a lot of blood  
Bucky please

Eventually Bucky snapped, “What Steve?” he burst out surprising him, he still hadn’t uttered a single word to him yet.  
Steve seemed to think for a moment as if this was the only question he could ask, “Do you regret it?” he asked, searching Bucky’s eyes for his answer before he responded.  
“No” he said and Steve’s eyes looked slightly panicked as Bucky started to explain.  
“I didn’t know them, they were nobody’s, sure they might’ve been up for football fucking scholarships but I doubt it. I bet half of ‘em were the makings of America’s next greatest serial killers, honestly who gives a crap, I wanted to kill them. I can see how much you’re trying to hate me right now, its fucking radiating off of you but I just can’t say it. I just can’t say I feel even anything over it all”.   
Steve was still staring at him as if his stare could take back everything he’d just said, “Next greatest serial killers?” he asked in disbelief, “Bucky they were kids!”  
“So? I should be 100 years old and I’m the best serial killer around” Bucky said and Steve flinched slightly, “What? You’re not gunna’ say I’m not a serial killer right?” Bucky asked and Steve shook his head,  
“No, I’m not, you are but Hydra Bucky it’s Hydra!”  
Bucky wanted to pound his head into the ground. Of course it wasn’t hydra, they were dead and gone and Bucky was still filling hole in the ground after hole in the ground without so much as a nudge.  
“I’m not a puppet Steve! I didn’t kill any of whoever I killed because someone threatened to blend up my brain again I did it because why not, like really, why not? Everyone’s clinging on to life like it’s some precious whatever but everyone’s dying, you might have survived for 70 years in the god damn ice but you’re still dying. All I did was speed the process up for a few people and had a bit of fun whilst doing it”  
“you don’t believe that” Steve shook his head slightly, he definitely didn’t want to believe it.  
“You know why people like the Avengers?” Steve asked and didn’t wait for an answer, “it’s because we save lives. People want to live Bucky”. The way he was saying it was as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Bucky laughed “people like you Steve because you have a nice ass”.  
“Get some rest”, Steve said standing up to leave, he hesitated for a moment and then planted a kiss on Bucky’s forehead before leaving.

 

That’s how the next day went too, Steve didn’t speak to Bucky and Bucky made jokes every time Steve turned around. So much so that Clint started joining in,  
“You know, he saw you dripping in blood and the first thing he did was take his shirt off” he smirked  
“Barton that is so not true I ripped part of it off like 15 minutes later to make bandages” Steve was starting to get annoyed with the two of them.  
The minute he turned his back to walk out Bucky winked at Clint who leaned in to him, “he’s in denial” he sang.

  
None of them would let Bucky leave. Steve wasn’t on his own in that. Although Steve suspected Clint just liked him rather than was trying to protect him. Natasha agreed with Steve so it was settled. They were back in New York now, but moving Bucky into the Avengers compound was easier said than done.  
Bucky did say they’d have to drag him kicking and screaming which is more or less what had to happen.  
Steve finally got him settled down in one of the rooms Tony deemed “fit for the greatest serial killer in America” for which he got a slap for saying.  
Steve kept bringing Bucky blankets, the bed already came with 2, and within the first hour he’d been brought another and by the time Steve was telling him to go to sleep there were 5 blankets tucked in around him he could hardly breathe. “I don't need fucking blankets Steve” Bucky glared at him more than once which only got him stern looks and being told “what you want isn’t what you need” before going through the same debacle 30 minutes later.

He woke up half way through the night just suffocating in them which is when he decided he’d had enough and bundled up all the blankets and stormed into Steve who woke up when Bucky slammed his fist and the blankets onto his bed  
“I don’t want the fucking blankets. I cannot breathe” he said giving Steve a look so angry it was surprising the blankets didn’t go up in flames.  
Steve sat up and accepted the blankets from him, grabbing a tight hold of his hand before he could walk away, “Bucky come here” he asked  
“Get the fuck off” Bucky tried to flap his arm around out of Steve’s grip which didn’t loosen its hold. Eventually Bucky gave in and sat down on the very edge of Steve’s bed only to be pulled down closer to Steve who wrapped both arms tight around him. Bucky actually growled from within Steve’s arms trying to push him away.  
“I want to kill you” he managed to threaten. But all his threat did was make Steve hug him even harder. “That’s not what you need” he spoke into Bucky’s hair.  
Bucky certainly didn’t think this boa constrictor hug is what he needed but he let himself decide that maybe it’s what Steve needed and let himself relax a little. It only took a few minutes for him to feel Steve relax entirely, feel his warm breathe against the back of his neck and the soft sounds he made that told Bucky he was asleep.  
Fighting his impulse to elbow him in the face and run away Bucky allowed himself to close his eyes, feeling himself settle back against Steve and drift off into sleep.

Steve woke up half way through the night with Bucky's hair tickling his face, he was surprised that Bucky had even fallen asleep there instead of escaping from Steve as fast as he could. Steve sighed slightly putting his arm back around Bucky, hugging him close again before drifting back off to sleep. The next morning Bucky woke up late, it took him a minute to remember where he was, Steve had one arm loosely around him and his other at an awkward angle above the pillows, his hand resting on the top of Bucky's head.  
Bucky could see Steve's arm close to his face and stared at it for a while, it would be so easy to kill Steve right now, so easy to tear his arm off of his body, if he had a knife he could slice into it right now. But he didn't have a knife... If he moved his head slightly and used all his force he could probably break the skin...

Deciding against it Bucky shuffled slowly out of Steve's clutches, not sure why he was being careful to let him sleep but was pleased when he was successfully off of the bed and Steve stayed sleeping.   
He found his was down the hall easily enough and soon heard voices coming from what he found out was the kitchen, Natasha and Clint were stood hovering next to the coffee pot but they both looked round when Bucky walked in, even though he thought he'd made no noise. _Bloody spies._  
Clint went to say something and Natasha slapped his arm sharply, "shut up he might not be a morning person, he could kill us" she said jokingly and Bucky almost smiled. He liked these two. "I thought about killing Steve" he admitted and Natasha raised her eyebrows,   
"he kept bringing me these  _fucking_ blankets last night and then pretty much made me sleep in his bed" Clint nudged Natasha when he said that, though she quickly told him to shush. "and then I woke up with his  _fucking_ arm around me and I wanted to bite it", "Clint did start to laugh then, "oh, that's normal" he assured Bucky.   
"yeah, Captain America's bicep? Only you and the rest of the women in America" Natasha said waving her hands airily in the air, "if i had to die, being choked by those arms wouldn't be a half bad way to go" she said just and turned to the coffee pot which had now finished.  
Just as Natasha went to pick it up to pour into her mug, Clint picked it up and drank the coffee right out of it.  
Natasha went mental at him, "Barton, what the fuck! You're the most disgusting human being... we all have to drink out of that!" but Clint shrugged  
"clearly I'm the only one drinking  _out_ of it" he said. Natasha slapped him again.

All three of them turned round to look at him when Steve entered the kitchen a few seconds later, Clint quickly rushing over, putting the back of his hand to his forehead, “Steve? Are you okay? I mean your buddy’s right there and you’ve still got a shirt on” he tried his best to sound panicky. Steve glared at him, “I swear to god Barton…” he then noticed the coffee pot which was now fairly close to his face, “can I have a cup?” he asked.  
Natasha sighed from behind Clint, “he’s drinking out of the pot again” she said and Bucky watched Steve lose his patience, “for god’s sake Clint! We all have to drink out of that you know”… Bucky interrupted him, “save your breath he’s already had this lecture” he said and Steve looked at Bucky with a weird sort of look on his face as if he’d forgotten Bucky was in the room.  
Ignoring them both Natasha had taken the coffee pot from Clint and poured herself a mug and had started to pull Clint out of the room.  
“I thought we agreed it’s gross when he does that?” Steve asked making her stop in her tracks, “It is but we share a bed, we can share coffee too” she said matter of factly acting as though she hadn’t just been biting his head off over it.  
Steve quickly glanced at Bucky at the mention of sharing a bed, he was after all basically a killing machine. But Bucky raised his eyebrows back at Steve, “So… you wanna share some coffee?” he asked.  
As much as he hated his friends sometimes it really did look like they were going to be the best thing for Bucky.

Steve and Bucky stood in increasingly awkward silence for a while until Steve finally broke it, he wasn’t sure what Bucky would want to do, and he wasn’t sure what he’d let Bucky do…  
“Want to watch a movie?” he asked.  
Bucky looked like he thought this was the stupidest idea ever but he agreed anyway. What was the worst that would happen?

Steve told Bucky to sit down on the coach in front of the biggest TV he’d ever seen, while he rummaged around through stacked of DVD’s trying to find one. Bucky sat looking around not really knowing where he was when Tony walked in,  
“hey Steve” he said, “hey beautiful” he winked at Bucky which made Steve turn round so quickly he almost lost his balance, watching Bucky like he was a time bomb and could blow at any moment.  
Tony stayed sitting with them for the duration of the film after Steve finally chose one, It was one Bucky knew or even recognised, but he didn’t recognise almost any of them so that wasn’t hard.  
Just as it was starting Steve looked around the room like he was trying to find a draught, “are you cold Bucky? Do you want a blanket? He asked. Bucky didn’t even look at him, “If you try to give me any more blankets, I’m going to punch you in the face” he threatened. Steve smiled slightly, happy because Bucky had threatened to punch him and not kill him. And that was progress.

 Half way through the film Bucky had pulled a blanket off the top of the couch around him, ignoring Steve's smug look. And then at last the movie finished and Bucky got up to leave, shrugging off the blanket back onto his seat, as he was almost out of the door Steve leaped up and followed him, throwing the blanket back around his shoulders.  
Bucky didn't even think about it, he'd warned him, and enough was enough, he turned to Steve and punched him right in the face, knocking him backwards at the force, he briefly noticed Tony's face half in shock but half finding the whole thing amusing but then he stormed off down the hallways not knowing where he was going, not remembering where anything was in this god forsaken mansion.

 

Half way round, wherever he was going he walked into Clint, Bucky already liked Clint, especially now, he could obviously see Bucky wasn't in a mood to talk or do anything other than beat someone or something to a pulp so he led Bucky to the gym. Two floors down and absolutely huge, Bucky was sure he didn't belong here.  
"here" Clint pointed out what he had brought Bucky here for, he was standing next to a couple of punching bags, holding bandages in his hands. "hit this" he instructed him. After a couple of hits he realized that this was really kind of fun, Clint made him stop so that he could wrap up his hands, Bucky watched him wind the bandages round listening as Clint told him it would stop him damaging himself. He didn't really care why he just wanted him to hurry up.  
The punching bag was pretty sturdy, he was used to hitting people once and them dropping like a stone but this just fueled him to keep going. Clint left him to it fairly quickly and Bucky started to lose track of time.

 

Steve was coming out of his room, thinking maybe Bucky had made his way back there, but he couldn't find him anywhere. He didn't think he'd left, he remembered his first week here he couldn't find a door outside even if he tried. So he hoped he was safe about that. He couldn't blame him either, he had been warned, give him a blanket and he would be punched so...  
It hadn't hurt for very long, but he couldn't deny Bucky had a hell of a strength to him, still wandering from room to room hoping to find Bucky instead he found Clint. He looked slightly flushed, almost a bit worried.   
"Steve, at last" he said   
"Have you seen Bucky?" Steve interrupted him,  
"yeah. that's why i'm looking for you" Clint told him, he and Steve headed towards the gym, Steve beginning to feel worried about what had happened, until Clint stopped in the doorway, making sure Steve did't go in, but so he could still see.   
Steve watched from the doorway, Bucky was concentrating hard, punching that punch bag over and over and over, following the same pattern of punched each time. He looked angry at first but as Steve continued to watch him his expression seemed to drop to nothing.  
"he's been in there over an hour" Clint admitted watching Steve watch Bucky.  
"He needs a hug" Steve told him making him throw his arms up in despair at him. "Steve he's been beating a god damn punch bag for over an hour, you know he's a time bomb, serial killer Steve... murderer. If you hug him, he will kill you."  
Steve shook his head, "he'll _want_ to kill me".

Before Clint could really make sure he didn’t die and before Bucky could notice them, Steve was over near him, he watched Bucky up close for a few seconds, just sensing him becoming angrier until he knocked the punch bag straight off and it went sliding across the room, he knew it wasn’t a great idea but Steve stepped in front of Bucky, taking its place, his expression didn’t change even slightly, like if Steve wanted to be a punch bag then he would be, Bucky’s fist hit Steve’s cheek, sending him reeling back a little bit but Bucky didn’t register the difference in what he was hitting. 

Just as he was about to throw another punch, Steve practically leaped into Bucky’s arms, throwing his arms around his neck and holding him close.  
Clint watched half amused as Bucky tried to fight him off, but Steve was just as strong and kept a hold on him until Bucky stopped fighting against him, his breath was loud enough to fill the whole room as he stood there half in Steve’s embrace. His arms hung limp at his sides and after a minute or so he raised his gaze so he was looking at Steve, he was glaring at him, full of rage and not really knowing how to control it. Clint was ready to step in but Bucky’s face changed and he was looking at Steve with a now blank look. Clint was waiting, for any second, Bucky to go full blown Winter Soldier on Steve. But he didn’t.  
Just as the anger faded from his face, the pain seemed to take over it.   
Bucky seemed to just fall apart right there, crumbling into Steve who held him, not saying anything, just holding him and looking as though it was absolutely killing him, Bucky didn’t hold onto Steve just tried to curl up smaller into him, letting him pull his arms further around him.

Clint stepped aside when Steve started leading Bucky out of the room. He somehow directed Bucky up two flights of stairs and into his room. Steve climbed onto the bed, and Bucky, who was now clinging to Steve’s arm like a frightened child, had no choice but to go with him.  
Steve whispered gently at him to lie down, which he did, curling towards Steve, his hands bunching up Steve’s shirt as he clung onto it.  
Steve hadn’t expected Bucky to react like this, the punch he expected, but this was whole new territory, and just as he was thinking about how much of a small child Bucky seemed right in this moment, every few minutes he’d readjust how he had hold of Steve, he buried his head into Steve’s chest and cried. Steve wouldn’t have even known he was crying except for the fact he could feel his shirt becoming increasingly wet. He could see Bucky’s shoulders shaking, and he could feel him take shaky breathes, he really was 90 years too old, the way he was crying, silently, not asking for attention, but filled with so much pain Steve felt as though his arms around him were the only thing keeping him together.

 

Across the compound Clint had tracked down Tony and had managed to pin him down long enough to be able to hold a conversation:  
“Barnes shouldn’t be here” he said and Tony raised his eyebrows, questioning him,  
“he’s dangerous, he’s unstable, surely you’ve noticed?” Clint asked and Tony couldn’t deny that,  
“I mean… he punched Steve just for putting a blanket over his shoulder” he thought out loud.  
“he was in the gym, boxing… for almost two hours, like it was nothing, he punched Cap again, because he tried to hug him” Clint explained to Tony who still didn’t seem as concerned as Clint was,  
“I thought you two were getting pretty friendly?2 he asked which Clint had to admit was true,  
“but he’s still… he needs a psych consult or _something_ ”.  
“Where is he now?” Tony started to finally take on board what Clint was saying.  
“With Steve” he sighed, grateful that Tony was listening.

Bucky had fallen asleep, half of Steve’s shirt still balled up in his fist like how a baby might cling to its mother, he looked peaceful as he slept, Steve had pulled a few strands of hair out of his face and was still stroking his hair softly. He’d slowly stopped crying, and had squeezed his eyes shut, still breathing shakily for a while, he had calmed completely now, sleeping quietly, as he was drifting off he had pulled Steve’s arm back around him when Steve had contemplated moving, and that was enough to make Steve decide that he wasn’t going to move an inch, no matter how uncomfortable he became and he would still be here when Bucky woke up.  
When Tony came and stood in the doorway Steve threatened him with a look that said _if you wake him I will kill you_.   
“Steve… he’s not okay, he’s not even all there” Tony looked from Steve to the man sleeping beside him, as did Steve.  
“He’s not perfectly fine but he’s okay” he insisted and Tony shook his head slightly,  
“he needs…. Psychological evaluation” Tony knew Steve wasn’t going to take it well and he was right, the look he gave Tony made him thankful looks couldn’t kill.  
“He needs _me_ ” Steve said simply, “he needs us all to be his friends, he needs us to love him and not want him to be extradited!”  
“Nobody wants him extradited Steve, give me a break” Tony shot back,  
“Nobody knows it was him, he’s save here Tony, please”.  
Tony noticed how Steve’s arm around the other man had tightened protectively, he turned to leave the room, and as he started walking away he saw as Steve laid his head down on the pillow beside Bucky, taking his arm away from over him and placing it gently on his cheek. All Tony could do now was hope Bucky didn’t decide to go murderous on their asses.

 

Bucky woke up when it was still dark outside, he didn’t know what the time was but it was quite clearly the middle of the night, he thought about what had happened, inwardly cringing at remembering how he cried and wouldn’t let Steve move barely an inch away from him.  
He was still next to him, now asleep but no further away. He had one hand on Bucky’s chest and the other resting on his cheek. Bucky tried not to move too much, not wanting to wake him, he wondered how he’d somehow slept in the same bed as Steve the past two nights, not understanding how he’d even let that happen.  
He thought back to the day before in the gym, he hadn’t realised the amount of time he’d been in there, his arms were aching slightly now, but what he really was really focusing on was the Steve part of the whole situation. He knew he’d punched Steve, that didn’t bother him, he knew the man was ‘super strengthed up’ not unlike himself. It was the rest of it that did bother him, the falling apart all over him, the crying, that was extremely out of character, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever cried before that. He could still see the part of Steve’s shirt he had bunched up and pulled at like he couldn’t get Steve close enough, like he had clung on for dear life, half expecting the rest of the world to fall apart from underneath.  
He started to really understand. The whole time he was touring the god damn city, taking the lives of whoever caught his eye, the whole time was waiting for the pain he was causing to hit him, it was the routine that kept it at bay. Had he stopped even for a week the pain probably would have caught up with him, but he hadn’t done that, he’d just killed more and more people deciding that maybe he was just America’s best serial killer and he didn’t feel pain any more.  
Now he’d slowed down long enough for it take over.  
He knew, punching that thing in the gym, it was all going through his head, he had started to feel it, he just hadn’t let himself really consider it, so he’d just tried to rid himself of it all before he could really _feel_ it.  
And then he’d stopped.  
And Steve had just fucking launched himself into his arms and it had ruined everything.  
He knew when he’d seen him on the bridge all those months ago that he had made him vulnerable, Pierce had swirled his brain into mush again for it, and now Steve was being clingy and making Bucky vulnerable, making him _feel_. And now everything hurt.  
Bucky laid watching Steve sleep, watching him _breathe._ Maybe if he killed Steve it would be enough for him to get back to being okay.  
He tried to focus on Steve’s hand, warm on his cheek and tried to imagine it cold, he thought about Steve’s hand on his chest, and slowly placed one of his hands against his chest, feeling his heart under his fingers, and tried to imagine there not being a heartbeat to feel.  
He watched as he could see Steve’s shoulders rising and falling with every breath and he tried to force himself not to breathe with him, he knew that Steve was a vulnerability and he should kill him, but instead he breathed in time with him until he fell back into sleep.

The week that followed was one of the most awkward, Clint and Tony tiptoed round Bucky like if they even looked at him wrong he would rip their heads off of their shoulders.  
Steve and Bucky were in a weird place with each other, after everything Steve thought they would have gotten closer, but Bucky still kept his distance, even though Steve often caught him watching him from across the room.  
They were never alone in a room together except from at night, Bucky was well aware that every night he did it was another day it would make everything harder for.  
But without fail, every night, no matter how their day had gone, Bucky would crawl into bed with Steve, and Steve would kiss him on the forehead and pull him in close.  
A week after the incident Bucky woke up to Steve already watching him, Steve apologised and looked away embarrassed when Bucky asked him,  
“Would you stop me if I tried to kill you?” Steve pulled away from him a little bit, in shock. They had, after all, been sharing a bed for the past week.  
He looked at Bucky’s earnest face and softened slightly, “Yeah, I would Bucky, okay?” he responded, asking if Bucky would be okay with that, he didn’t smile but he closed his eyes again, “Thankyou” was all he said leaving Steve feeling quite confused and concerned all at the same time. He wondered if Tony had been right.  
 He leaned forward again to kiss Bucky’s head and that time he did show a small smile, maybe Bucky wanted to kill him but he’d smiled at the kiss and that somehow made everything okay.

After that things became easier. Bucky seemed to have been put at ease knowing even if he tried, Steve wouldn’t let him kill him, Steve remembered the smile he’d shown at the kiss and even Tony and Clint had started acting themselves again.  
Natasha had stayed _Natasha_ through the whole thing, promising Steve that she was neutral ground. But even she seemed happier now that things had started to resolve themselves.  
Bucky thought often about opening up to Steve, he’d stopped worrying about killing him, and he hadn’t felt that immense pain wash over him again, but it was always there, like an ache in his chest he couldn’t get rid of. He drank coffee after coffee after coffee, like he thought he could drown out the feeling with caffeine, he laughed at jokes and at Clint, and Natasha’s despair when he’d forgotten to put his hearing aid in. Maybe it would make its own way out if Bucky tried to be happy.  
He slept in a bed with Steve, his hand on Steve’s shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, or on his cheek, feeling the warmth radiate from him, or on top of Steve’s hand when his arm was around Bucky keeping him close. He hoped being close to someone else could erase all the people he’d taken away from _their ‘someone else’_.  
Only when Bucky woke in the middle of the night, and in his still half asleep state he could see Steve’s face just inches from his, his pink lips, eyelashes that fluttered sometimes when he was dreaming and his body that still slept soundly even though he’d all but admitted he’d thought about killing him, only then did the feeling subside for a moment or two.

 

The atmosphere between Bucky and Clint had been a bit _off_ for a while, when Bucky had first arrived the two of them had gotten along like a house on fire and yet here they were creeping around the place bolting off in the opposite direction if they happened to pass through the same hallway.  
But Bucky needed to talk to Clint before he could Steve. He knew that much.  
Sliding out of Steve’s arms early the next morning Bucky headed towards the kitchen, he hadn’t seen Clint in there since that first day but he’d got lucky today. Clint was sat on the kitchen countertop next to the boiling coffee pot, staring into space when Bucky entered the room.  
“Are we good?” Bucky asked when Clint immediately avoided his gaze.  
“Yeah we’re fine” Clint nodded but his heart didn’t seem in it, Bucky decided to take what he could get. He pushed himself up onto the counter top beside him and looked at him expectantly.  
Clint noticed him looking and cleared his throat, “So… coffee?” he asked and Bucky nodded gratefully, “thanks” he smiled.  
Clint took him a mug out of the cupboard and Bucky suddenly had a thought, “are you drinking from the pot still?” he asked looking at the one cup sitting on the side, “Don’t tell Nat” Clint winked. Bucky didn’t really understand it, what was the point? It was still coffee whatever you drank it from… But the point was to put himself back in Clint’s good books so he hopped down of the counter and opened the cupboard door again, “We can give her a reason not to be angry?” he suggested and picked up a mug with cats on it, letting it drop, smashing across the floor.  
Clint didn’t know what to make of it, Bucky looked like a child who’d just found where his parents hid his Christmas presents, but it also seemed kind of fun.  
Taking the next mug from Bucky (this one was plain blue) he threw it to the floor, pieces shattering near Bucky’s feet.  
Clint raised his hands in defence when Bucky glared at him, though his glare turned quickly to a grin as he stood on one of the chairs that sat around the island in the centre of the room.

10 glorious minutes later Natasha and Steve both came into the doorway wondering what the hell was going on. Clint had his legs folded up underneath him, still sat on the counter, Bucky was standing on a lone chair, Clint pulling mugs out, one for him, one for Bucky. Throwing them to Bucky who wobbled on his chair as he tried to catch them. The floor was covered in broken china pieces. Mug handles and broken pieces under Bucky’s chair and scattered right the way underneath the refrigerator.  
Neither Natasha nor Steve really knew what to make of the scene. Bucky noticed them first, stopping in his tracks just as Clint chucked another cup in his direction. Bucky was smiling apologetically at Steve as the cup hit him. Bouncing off his shoulder Bucky reacted quick enough to catch it.  
“Can we keep this one?” he asked looking from the mug printed with a red white and blue shield, to Clint who grinned at him just before noticing the people in the doorway too.  
Clint pretended to be taken back by the sight of them, “Steve! Your shirt!” he said, making a joke he hadn’t in a while,  
“Leave him alone!” Bucky told him, “He looks good with his shirt _on_ ”. Steve blushed a little then. But Natasha was still eyeing the mess on the floor.  
Clint noticed her looking and picked up the coffee pot which had been left alone for a while, he held it up, looking hopeful Natasha would stay calm, “Coffee?” he asked.

Tony found the four of them like that a few minutes later, Natasha and Steve had joined Bucky on other chairs, and they were passing around the coffee pot like it was a bottle of vodka and they were 4 teenagers at a party. Tony didn’t have a clue what to say to the shards of china and the four of them sat there looking guilty, so that’s where the 5 of them stayed until an hour later when Clint decided he was hungry and was trying to lean his way to the fridge without falling.  
It didn’t take the five of them long to clear everything up, it took the first few minutes of walking chair to chair like they were stepping stones, to clear a space big enough for each of them to stand.  
Natasha stood by for a lot of it, watching Steve and Bucky. Bucky picked up the last two mugs that were left on the kitchen island, one of them the one with the shield painted on, Bucky placed one hand on Steve’s chest as he leaned up and round him to put them back in their rightful place, Steve putting one hand on Bucky’s waist to balance him.  
The simple action made Natasha expect Bucky to kiss Steve on the cheek at the very least afterwards… but he didn’t. Just went back to clearing away more of the broken mugs. He held two pieces up, seeing how they fit together to made a letter T, he looked guiltily at Tony but he didn’t seem the type to become too attached to a lettered mug so the look quickly faded.

 

After their morning, they all sat around and ate lunch, Tony ate cereal straight out of the box, Clint made pancakes which he covered in syrup for him and Natasha, Steve made toast and Bucky refused it all, drinking more coffee and ate an apple. But it was their version of lunch all the same. Sat around the table like a big very dysfunctional family.  
It was an easy afternoon to begin with, Tony headed off to his workshop, Clint had turned his hearing aid off whilst making pancakes, he often set the smoke alarm off so decided it would be okay if he just couldn’t hear it, so when Natasha made some sexual comment that only Steve and Bucky were around to hear it (and wish they weren’t), she ended up having to drag him out of the room.  
Steve excused himself, telling Bucky he’d be right back, only when he did return Bucky wasn’t there.  
Steve tried not to panic, it was a big place and Tony… well Jarvis had security cameras all over the place, Bucky would show up. He’d probably just gone to the bathroom.  
But Steve still thought he needed to check.

He let himself into the room where Tony was busy fiddling with whatever the hell he was doing, all Steve could see was small pieces of metal and a few lights were flicking on and off.  
“Tony have you seen Bucky?” He asked but he only shook his head, far too engrossed in what he was doing to give his full attention,  
“can I have the code for the cameras?” Steve asked next and still Tony didn’t look up, scribbles something on a piece of scrap paper and handed it to Steve. In reality he held up the piece of the paper in the exact opposite place Steve was standing but he was busy, it was fine, Steve grabbed the passcode and walked back past the kitchen to check he hadn’t made his way back there… after passing the empty room Steve then made his way up to Tony’s office.  
He accessed the cameras easily enough, taking a few minutes to scan all of the images, searching for anyone at all.  
He came up blank.  
That’s when he let himself panic a little. Bucky had almost been there a month now, of course he knew how to find his way out by now. Steve had just trusted that he wouldn’t go anywhere.  
Steve was on his way back to see Tony, deciding to take a small detour to Natasha’s room first, he hovered outside the door for a minute, hearing her laugh from the other side of it, just as he decided it was safe to enter he heard her again, followed by Clint, that was definitely not a laugh.

Eventually he was back in Tony’s workshop, Tony finally looking up after hearing the obvious worry in Steve’s voice and went with him into one of the rooms where they sat on the couch, Steve fidgeting restlessly every few seconds, completely oblivious to Tony telling him to calm down, “Barnes’ll be back just chill out” he kept saying which did nothing to settle his nerves.  
It felt like they’d been sat there forever, when really Tony still hadn’t found anything to watch yet so it couldn’t have been too long, when they heard someone coming down the corridor.  
Steve was out there in a flash, making Bucky jump as he all but leaped in front of him,  
“Shit Steve don’t make me drop these ones” he swore and Steve frowned, looking down at the box Bucky was carrying,  
“I bought more mugs…” he explained looking down at the replacements he was carrying.  
“You came back…?” Steve said it like it was a question and Bucky raised his eyebrows at him,  
“Yeah I bought more mugs” he repeated himself looking at Steve amused.

Bucky turned away clearly not understanding how Steve was feeling, turning back once to ask Tony if he could find him some paint.  
Steve followed him through the hallways like a stray puppy not knowing what to do or where to go, just anxiously following a could be owner around the building.  
He didn’t sit down at first, just stood from a small distance watching Bucky sit himself down on one of the kitchen chairs, unloading the mugs, accepting the paint from Tony and he started to paint.  
A few minutes passed and Bucky placed the first complete mug down beside him,  
The mugs were plain white, and Bucky had painted with great care a fancy letter ‘T’ on it in in red and yellow.  
Steve smiled at the back of Bucky’s head before deciding to sit down with him, choosing not to take a mug for himself, preferring to just watch Bucky’s steady hand, after everything, his hands were still steady, paint one mug after another.  
After 10 minutes there were 5 perfectly painted mugs. Each baring their initials, Steve’s one had half a shield painted on top of the ‘S’, sitting on top of it like a helmet. Clint’s was a big swirly ‘C’, Natasha’s was a red ‘N’ with black outline, and Bucky’s was plain black ‘B’ strong and bold without any fussy detail he’d given the rest of them.  
Steve was definitely overthinking it, they were only coffee mugs after all but this felt like one of the greatest moments he could remember.  
There was still another 15 to go, and Steve sat patiently watching Bucky as he worked his way through them, neither of them ever saying a word.  
  
Bucky could feel Steve watching him for the entire almost 45 minutes it took him to finish the mugs. It was slightly off putting but he didn’t let that show. In the end he was rather proud of what he’d accomplished. He wasn’t stupid, he could tell Steve wasn’t going to leave him alone after the stunt he’d pulled by leaving in the first place, he’d tried to act as though he didn’t understand Steve’s reaction to seeing him return, but even he’d thought on his way to the store how easy it would be to just not go back. But it had been almost a month and in that month it had become his home… those four people, his family.  
Steve had always been the artist out of the pair of them, the mugs weren’t painted with much more than stick men on skateboards, paper aeroplanes, silly little drawings that Steve was admiring as if he’d painted a Van Gogh. He couldn’t decide if it was patronising or sweet that Steve was acting this way.  
Bucky hummed a tune as he piled the mugs onto the shelves, not aware of Tony pulling Steve out the room and to the side.  
“I’m sorry, you were right, he’s gunna be okay I think” Tony apologised to Steve who nodded along with him, smiling gratefully at his understanding.  
The truth was, Steve had been worried that Tony was right, but Bucky had come back. Bucky wanted to stay.

Steve went back in to be with Bucky, who had started upstairs to Steve’s room, which was basically their room now.  
Steve laid down on the bed, his arm behind his head propping him up, Bucky laid down sideways, Resting his head on Steve’s stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. He reached up with his right hand, placing it on Steve’s face, rubbing small circles along his jawline with his thumb.  
Steve’s arm was laid beside Bucky, his hand on his waist, drumming a pattern against his hip.  
Bucky could feel Steve looking at him, asking the question he wished he didn’t want to ask.  
“I didn’t kill anyone” Bucky assured him turning to face him,  
“Okay… I know” Steve said  
“Okay”  
“thankyou” Steve said quietly.

The air cleared after that, they laid comfortable against each other, Steve thinking about how the days were just passing without much happening, it made a nice change. But he was wrong to think it would last.

The sun had started to set and Bucky was still laid against Steve, falling in and out of sleep.  
Steve had been asleep for a while when we was woken up, he couldn’t feel Bucky on the bed anymore, but he could hear him heavily breathing, when Steve opened his eyes he saw Bucky standing over him, holding a gun, aiming it at his head.  
The gun was visibly shaking in his grip, Bucky’s eyes were open but he wasn’t there. It only took Steve a moment to realise he was still half asleep.  
Sitting up slowly, he reached forwards with his hands up in surrender, not wanting to scare Bucky or say anything out of place, he took the gun from him and held Bucky’s shaking hands in his own. Carefully lying him back down. It took a while for Steve to get back to sleep, he wasn’t sure where the gun had come from, and every slightly louder breath, or any time Bucky made the slightest of movements, Steve was wide awake again.

He didn’t tell Bucky the next morning, instead he went to Tony, and to Clint and Natasha and found out where any and every gun was kept, and made sure they hid them better, stored them somewhere even a master assassin couldn’t find them.  
The nights that followed were almost the same. Steve woke up to Bucky shaking beside him, his eyebrows knitted together in pain, shouting out and pulling at the sheets. Steve put both arms around him, hugging him tight, whispering into his ear, telling him he was okay, kissing his forehead, kissing his temple and down his cheek and his jaw, kiss after kiss and telling him he was okay again and again until he started to calm down.  
He never woke up, just settled back down into Steve’s chest. Falling back into sleep as quickly as he had been disturbed.  
And again the next night.  
Steve as awoken by Bucky thrashing around, hitting out in his sleep, calling out but not making a lot of sense.  
Steve rolled onto his front, propping himself up on his elbow he started stroking Bucky’s hair line, telling him he was there for him, holding his hand and linking their fingers together, he raised their hands up to his lips and planted a kiss on Bucky’s knuckles.  
It was the same routine for almost a week, once maybe twice a night Bucky would have these nightmares, and it would take Steve a few minutes of calm reassurance and comfort to bring him back down from them.  
Bucky knew but now, and he’d ask Steve every morning, and every morning Steve would tell him what had happened. And Bucky would apologise.  
“Please don’t apologise to me” Steve would tell him every day and Bucky would give him a sad smile and agree he’d try to stop.  
Steve had gotten into his midnight habit of kissing Bucky all over his face to try and comfort him, that’s what it was now. A habit.  
And people were starting to notice.  
Natasha saw him more often than not, quick kiss on the cheek, throwing his arm around him if they were sat close enough, resting his hand on his thigh, kissing the top of his head if he reached up over him for anything.  
And the pair acted as though it was perfectly normal. Completely platonic, despite behaving more like a couple than Clint and Natasha did half the time. 

Bucky didn’t say anything to anyone but he felt like these nightmares were likely a good thing. The pain he felt had eased a lot these most recent weeks and now the nightmares appeared out of nowhere. But he had a theory, everything Hydra had put into his head was still there, he liked the idea of it all coming out. Every nightmare felt like a fight against what was inside of him. And already they seemed to be coming less frequently, he and Steve were close and he was fighting against the force that lived inside him, and he felt as if everything was working itself out.  
He hadn’t slept in his own room since the first night, and even then he had ended up in Steve’s bed fairly quickly. He wasn’t sure how Steve’s room had become his, and how Steve’s friends had become his. All he had figured out was that Steve felt like home.  
It was like he had at last come home from the war to spend the rest of his living days with the man who had promised him till the end of the line.  
Steve had just picked up from where they’d left off, like Bucky hadn’t gone to war, like Steve hadn’t become Captain America. Like Bucky didn’t become the Winter Soldier, like Steve hadn’t found him again after he had murdered a whole team of young football players for nothing more than the thrill of it, after slicing up his own arms because that’s what he had seen Steve doing.  
Steve was a breath of fresh air after the stockpile of bodies he had built up his walls out of. Steve was his _coming home_.

Natasha had noticed everything that was going on and eventually roped Clint in on it too.  
“They’re actually a couple” she kept telling him, until she started to get bored of watching them act sickeningly sweet and not realizing.  
“Can you go talk to him?” She asked Clint.  
“Who? Steve?” He asked surprised,  
“No, Barnes” she corrected him and he nodded his agreement,  
“Okay fine”  
“Make sure you do talk to him about _this_ , I’m going to find Steve, if they’re together-“  
“Which they will be” Clint interrupted her.  
“Send Rogers my way” Natasha finished as Clint headed towards the gym.  
He’d seen them both heading that way earlier on and quickly found he was right.  
Bucky was on one of the gym mats, doing press ups, Steve sat cross legged, reading a book, on his back.  
Clint watched them for a moment, Bucky seemed to start to struggle with the weight but somehow kept it up until Clint did interrupt them.  
“Hey Steve… Nat’s looking for you” he told him, and Steve swung himself off of Bucky, handing Clint his book as he walked past.  
_Harry Potter_  
It was quite sweet really, Steve reading this, he was technically 100 years old, Harry Potter didn’t skip a generation Clint though dog earing the page Steve was on.  
“Hey Bucky” he said as Bucky rolled over and sat up to face him.  
“So… do you two take it in turns?” He asked and Bucky smiled, “Yeah but Steve can’t take my weight for as long as I can take his” he explained. Clint must have been looking at him a certain way because he suddenly frowned,  
“What? Is it weird? I’ve seen you do it with Natasha” he asked sounding concerned, but Clint couldn’t help but notice how he compared him and Steve to himself and Natasha.  
“Nah not weird mate… you and Steve are close”  
“yeah he’s my friend” the way Bucky said it was like he knew there was more to what Clint was saying, “Just friends?” he asked and he got a frown in response but Bucky was blushing slightly too, “um yeah” he still sounded as if he was asking Clint what he thought, but he was already on his way out.  
“oh hey, have this” he handed Steve’s book to him to look after as he left the gym, heading back up towards where he’d left Natasha.  
Half way up the stairs he bumped into Tony.  
“Wow haven’t seen you around in a few days” he said and Tony shrugged him off, “been busy”.  
Clint decided to take this opportunity to ask Tony’s opinion on it all.  
“Cap? And Barnes?”  
“yeah don’t you think they seem kind of… a couple?”  
“A couple of old men? Sure” Tony jokily replied before giving it a bit of thought,  
“Shit, you’re right” he realized, “ _I’ve_ certainly never put my hand on Barnes’ thigh just because he sat beside me on the couch” he said and  Clint smiled, it was good to know Tony could see it too.

Clint heard Natasha still talking to Steve in their room, so he waited outside the door, leaning against the wall and waited for her to finish. 10 minutes later Clint decided he’d definitely not done what he was supposed to properly, he thought he’d talked to Bucky about this but Natasha seemed to have a very different and much longer version of it.  
When she finally came out the room, he grabbed a hold of her,  
“Right… 5 hours later, what did you say to him?” He asked, and she glared at him.  
“What? How long were you with Barnes for?” She asked and he shrugged.  
“I dunno, 2 minutes”  
“Barton!” She smacked his arm and then started to tell him what Steve had said.

The next couple of days were painful to say the least, Natasha and Clint waiting urgently for some indication that Steve and Bucky had confessed their undying love for one another. But with each day it was clear they hadn’t. They were barely touching, the fleeting looks and touches and kisses had stopped almost overnight.  
After he’d been basically lectured about his best friend of _forever_ Steve had a lot to think about, he’d wanted to go and find Bucky, ask him his point of view on just about everything but he wanted to figure out his own thoughts first. Because they were pretty much all over the place.  
He knew that he and Bucky had become close and they slept in the same bed every night but it didn’t _mean_ anything, he kissed him on his forehead a few times, okay maybe more than a few but it was just because of the nightmares, calming him down and all that… and during the day… well it was a habit now.

Bucky was having the same sort of dilemma, Clint hadn’t said all that much to him but his face had suggested as much as he had said. He and Steve… yeah they were close, but Bucky had managed to get past wanting to kill him so why shouldn’t they be close? The very thought of every idea Clint had put into his head was slightly terrifying. Steve kissed him quite a lot but never in a way that was anything other than platonic, he thought about how he slept in Steve’s bed every night and how that was just what they did now.  
He wanted to ask Steve why they did that but also was now a bit afraid to know the answer. Not the, _Bucky has nightmares and Steve likes to make sure he has all the blankets he could possibly need_ version, the complete honest truth.

Five days later Steve finally decided to breach the subject to Bucky, he didn’t know if it would be better to sit him down and talk to him or just blurt it out in passing…  
Which is pretty much how it wound up happening. Although not exactly in so many words as he thought it would’ve happened.  
They were laid in bed, it had been quite awkward the past few days, laying far apart and recoiling if they happened to touch, still feeling each other’s body warmth but not really _feeling it_.  
“Buck” Steve said into the darkness, he could hear Bucky’s breathing and he knew the difference in sound between when he was awake or asleep.  
Bucky rolled over to face Steve, whose heart was suddenly in his throat.  
He laid looking at Steve who was just looking at him silently,  
“Steve?” Bucky prompted, reaching forward to touch his arm. Steve reacted as if the touch had brought him to life and he started recalling everything. He was rambling, speaking full speed leaving Bucky confused and trying to keep up and not throw up his own heart.  
He was barely hearing Steve, he was going too fast and too… _crazy_ and Bucky really loved it.  
The moment Steve had finished Bucky started laughing, the tension between the two of them vanishing instantly, Bucky leaned forward, holding onto Steve’s arm and smiling into his chest. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, putting one hand on the shoulder of his arm that was holding into him, stroking up into his hair, almost running his hand through it before holding onto a handful, gently pulling Bucky’s head back so he could see his face. Bucky didn’t know if he was going to be sick in Steve’s face or what, but he could feel his hand in his hair and he was looking at him with the same look he had plastered across his own face.  
Bucky had no idea what to do but luckily for him Steve didn’t seem to have a plan either, Bucky shifted quite a bit, starting to sit up which Steve did with him, doing his best to keep his hand wrapped up in Bucky’s hair.  
The moment they were sat up facing each other Steve stroked the side of Bucky’s face with his knuckles and Bucky clutched onto Steve’s shoulders like he was desperate to not lose contact with him, whilst at the same time wanting to slap him across the face for still looking at him with that _stupid_ look on his face.  
Bucky frowned, closing his eyes, thinking for a barely a few minutes, about how slow everything had been going, they’d spent the god damn 1930’s in a time and place where being gay would have been the worst thing they could have been, then they each spent 70 years in _fucking_ ice, and then Bucky had gone round killing off innocent people just _because he could_. Until Steve had found him and brought him back from 'America’s best serial killer', to almost painfully vulnerable sleeping in his arms every night.  
And here they were acting out a ridiculous love scene like he was Ryan Gosling and Steve was Rachel McAdams.  
He opened his eyes again and grabbed hold of Steve’s face and kissed him. Not the subtle kisses on the cheek they’d been fooling themselves with, but passionate and desperate to not waste any more time. He kissed him with such a force Steve toppled backwards, like falling back against the bed in slow motion, Bucky falling on top of him.  
And that’s where they were 20 minutes later. Bucky straddling Steve, leaning all the way down to kiss Steve who had his hands on his waist, absolutely on cloud nine.

 

The next evening Natasha was unpacking shopping bags of paper plates and napkins and pointy party hats and streamers and then they waited for Steve and Bucky to head into the kitchen...  The second they entered the room party poppers we're pulled and there was a lot of screaming. Natasha, Clint and Tony, screaming and clapping and popping champagne in celebration.  
“About time!” Natasha shouted at the two of them, Clint still cheering behind her until she turned round and gave him a look, “We’ve finished now Barton... find your bloody hearing aids”, and Tony poured 5 glasses of champagne, Steve and Bucky turned back to one another and kissed until the words of encouragement became them being begged to stop.  
Steve looked down at the floor in embarrassment but Bucky laughed loud and bright, “We’ve waited for like 90 years… we’re a couple of 100 year old guys and you want us to… stop? Please” he said. Steve looked at him with such pride, and Bucky smiled so big, eyes sparkling so much as he looked around at his friends all wearing party hats, and at Steve who looked like he was melting from sheer happiness and knew that he'd made himself a home.


End file.
